


Break Me

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, M/M, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-27 22:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17170664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Jack’s father is back in the picture, and things aren’t going well.





	Break Me

Tuesdays and Thursdays were for eating dinner together, and trying to pretend that things were normal. Jack was much better at that than David had ever been. Jack was the one to fill in silence with jokes about the manuscripts that David had to edit for work, and mostly fabricated stories about Crutchy’s latest exploits. David knew that the stories were fabricated, because Jack hadn’t seen Crutchy in the last four months, and David had. 

Jack had traded in his cowboy hat for a scruffy beard, and the smiles he’d used to wear for a haunted look that frankly scared David. Blink knew more about what Jack did on a day to day basis than David did, which scared David even more. Blink warned David to watch his back, not because Jack would ever dream of hurting him, but because Jack was in a lot of trouble, and there were people out there who wouldn’t mind using Jack’s friends to make sure that he stayed that way.

Jack’s father was back in the picture. That was the main issue. David didn’t know as much about it as he ought to, as Jack’s best friend. He knew that there had been a bright spot, some false reconciliations, a lot of apologies, and about a week and a half where Jack had been the happiest he’d seen him, before it had all gone to hell. 

David tried to plan. He suspected that if he spent all of his time arguing with and nagging Jack, that Jack would just stop coming over, so David made rules for himself. Thursdays were for trying to fix everything that went wrong. Tuesdays were for being pleasant, though David found that more often than not silent and disconnected was the best approximation of pleasant that he could muster, just like half-hearted teasing was the best that Jack had to offer him. All in all, Unpleasant Thursdays were much easier to deal with. 

Some Thursdays David nagged Jack for never shaving. He knew it wasn’t a big deal, and that his objections to Jack’s facial hair were more likely than not a matter of him tripping down a literal and misguided path, in his attempts to find the real Jack underneath the person that Jack was unfortunately becoming.

Other Thursdays were for nagging Jack about not changing his clothes enough, or ever for that matter. It was something that David had nagged Jack all of twice about when they were kids, before realizing that Jack only really owned one outfit. He knew it was a petty thing to bother Jack about now, but the issue was, now he owned at least three sets of clothes, but none of them made him look like himself. The clothes were dirty, and smelled like feet on a good day and beer on a bad one, but that wasn’t the most important thing. 

David nagged Jack about where he lived, about not wanting David to visit him there, about not wanting David to know the people that he knew, the places he went, the work he did or whether or not he planned on ever changing these things. 

“That’s just how people like me live,” Jack said one night. “And I know you don’t get that, but you better get used to it. I’ve been thinking… maybe I shouldn’t come ‘round here no more.” Jack sounded resigned. He took a few steps away from David, like he was getting ready to leave right there and then. 

“People like you?” David exploded. “And what kind of people are you talking about there, Jack? Blithering idiots?” 

Jack’s hands were balled up in fists, and he let out his breath in an angry huff. He looked for all the world like he wanted to hit David.

“Not everyone’s got the chances in life you do, Dave.” 

“You mean like the other guys?” David asked. He didn’t ball up his fists, but he wanted to. He wanted to push Jack right off the fire escape. “Like Mush maybe? ‘Cause he’s living with Blink and painting children’s toys for a living. Or Boots. God knows he’s had enough setbacks. Go on, Jack. Tell me how Boots is wallowing in filth and making everybody who ever cared about him hate him.”

Jack’s eyes widened, and his jaw slackened into that stupid gaping vulnerable look that made David ache. It was enough to make David want to make amends, in the split second before Jack’s eyes hardened and the look was gone. 

“He’s running a fruit stand!” David shouted, because Jack looked like he was going to try and answer him, and David didn’t want him to. “Boots in running a fruit stand, and he’s expecting a kid soon. Skittery was working as a clerk last time I checked. There are rumors that he married an heiress, and I’m sure they aren’t true, but I bet he’s at least he’s probably okay. Bumlets…”

Jack grabbed onto David’s shoulders, fingers gripping so tightly that David wondered if he might leave a mark, “Swifty might get out of prison someday, but I doubt it. Most folks say he’s better off there. Ain’t no job gonna hire him. Snipes went and got himself stabbed, so did Spot, Tumbler’s dead from consumption, Pie Eater ain’t never lived in the same place for more than a month at time, and Racetrack’s on the run from the law far as I can tell…” 

David wrenched himself out of Jack’s grip, tripping when escaping took a lot less force than he’d expected. Jack hadn’t even tried. He’d just let go. He grabbed onto David again briefly to keep him from stumbling too close to the stairs, but he released him just as quickly. He paused for a second, hands hovering just above David, before reaching down to straighten his tie, and brush imaginary dust off his shoulders. 

“Look,” Jack said. “I gotta go. I’ll talk to one of the other guys. Mush. I’ll tell him to start comin’ by. For dinner. On Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Jack said. His hands fell away. 

“Jack… That’s not what I…”

“I don’t give a damn what you meant!” Jack said. “You ain’t listening to anything I’m trying to say. Guys like me. We don’t hang around with guys like you, Dave.”


End file.
